Perseus Jackson and the Ship of Skulls - Book 2 of Son of Love
by seagurl3
Summary: Percy's back at it again, this time with his best goat missing, Thalia's tree is poisoned, Chiron is gone, Annabeth is paranoid, and he's bunking with a cyclops who believes that Percy is his brother. If that's not worse, his mysterious sister keeps sending him visions of a girl with grey-blue eyes who keeps speaking of this great prophecy. Welcome back to camp, Percy. DISCONTINUED
1. My sister killed me

My dream started out unlike the others.

My sister, who I hadn't seen or heard from since I was last at camp, was sitting at a beachside cafe, scowling at the turquoise waters. Her glass of iced coffee was no longer iced, the cubes had all melted and the untouched water was floating on top of the coffee.

"So close," she whispered. "So close yet so far."

"What do you mean?" My feet were glued to the floor, leaving me no choice but to stay still.

Her pink eyes turned to me. "You should not be here, little brother." She sounded agitated.

"Where is here?" I shook my head, confused.

She waved her hand, her purple arm scarf fluttering in the motions. "That is of no concern of yours. Begone, you must get to your dreams."

She flicked her hand and the old glass of coffee flew towards me and shattered against my chest.

The world went vertigo for a minute, leaving me sick to my stomach. Then, it cleared.

Kinda.

I was standing in the center of a road, a storm raging around me.

Judging by the treelines, I was either in South California or Florida. The street was abandoned other than a scrawny boy around my age dashing up the sidewalk.

Curly brown hair flapped in the wind, rain pelting a rainbow beanie.

A very familiar rainbow beanie.

Grover hadn't changed much since I've seen him last, back in August. He had written a time or two, mostly to assure me that he was alive, but that wasn't the point. He still looked like a 29 year old got stuck in the body of a 7th grader, which was kind of the case. Satyrs didn't age the same way humans did, but it appeared like he was still the same age as I.

His clothes were torn - a beige linen jacket with no sleeves, khaki jeans with one pant leg sliced off along his knee-line, a grey shirt that looked like it had a see-through skull on it, and a pair of blue Skechers in his hand. His hooves had cloth towelettes pulled over them, so instead of a _clop clop_ they made a _spif spif_ sound.

His legs were covered in tangles, a couple of combs stuck in the courses brown damp wool. His face was twisted with terror.

He dashed past me, muttering 'Need to warn them, need to tell them'. I turned and noticed the street was a dead end. The wind whipped around me and him like a hurricane, making it hard to stand up.

There was only one store with an opened door - _**ST. AUGUSTINE BRIDAL BOUTIQUE**_

Grover dashed inside and I willed my body to follow him.

Inside were wedding dresses that were whiter than teeth. Lace dresses, cotton, nylon, polyester, mermaid tail, big prom like puffs, trains, cocktail.

You name it, the store has it. And unfortunately, I knew this store. Drew told me that this was where she wanted to get her dream dress.

I cringed at the thought of having to tell her that the Boutique was… not available at the moment.

He dove behind a rack of pearly white dresses, accidently getting tangled inside of one.

I winced, realising Grover was now in a ten thousand dollar dress that did not match his figure. It was huge, puffy, with yellow flowerettes. It looked tacky.

Then I shivered at the thought. Why did I have to sound so… Aphrodite-ee.

The storm outside started to sound quieter. I caught a waft of a far too familiar scent - sulfur and iron.

Monster.

I looked around, desperately trying to find where the scent was coming from.

Grover sighed a little, relieved.

Then the roof peeled away from the walls, flying off into the distance. Someone huge bellowed "MINE!" and Grover was pulled into the whirlwinds above, yellow flowerettes and all.

I screamed, running for the door.

I woke up, breathless and drenched in sweat. Nothing like a good old nightmare to get you up before the alarm.

"Oh come on, I had two more minutes left," I complained to myself, glaring at the clock on the wall. Usually I had an alarm clock, but Mom suggested I ditched it so I could avoid the monsters' attentions.

So far, it's been working. I glanced at the calendar and broke into a smile.

Today was the best day of the year - last day of school.

Then the smile faded as I noticed something outside my window, on the fire escape. A dark, slim figure, much like a shadow.

My hand instinctively went to Riptide, in which I kept under my pillow every night.

…

Don't laugh at me.

Survival is key to being a demigod, you never know when a flying demon hag could crash into your bedroom and give you random lessons about math.

The smooth feeling of the purple and gold pen brushed my fingers and I gripped it, eyes locked on the shadow.

It shifted, like it wanted to come in. My finger inched up to the cap, ready to unleash the bronze from it's disguise.

Mom opened the door. "Percy? You're up early."

I turned, the uneasy feeling washing away.

"Yeah, just excited." I smiled, Riptide falling out of my hands.

She smiled. "Well hurry up then, I made waffles."

My eyes widened and she laughed softly, closing the door behind her as she made her way to the kitchen.

I turned to the window, only to find nothing was there.

Of course there was no one. Who would be at the top of a five story fire escape at this time of the hour.

 _You live in the city that never sleeps_ , I reminded myself, _there is an endless list of people who would._

 _You're so pessimistic,_ _Percy_. The small voice said. I pierced my lips.

"Oh, so now you talk to me. Where were you when I needed help on that history test last week?"

 _I'm not helping you cheat on a test,_ My sister said with a scowl. Or so I imagined. You can't see voices. _Now get ready for school._

I did as I told, feeling like I had three moms now. 15 minutes later, I was in the kitchen, a plate of blue waffles in front of me. Mom was behind the counter, in her red and white striped blouse and blue skirt uniform for Sweet on America, the candy store she worked at. Her hair was put up in a bun, one single stripe of blue ribbon woven into a small bow to hold everything up. Her icy ocean blue eyes were lined in a dark blue liner Drew had gotten her for Christmas.

It was days like this where I could see how she was a legacy. She looked like a true child of the sea. I looked more like Christmas, with my red tinted black hair and green eyes.

She was stirring her glass of tea with her palm hovering above the openning, her watery powers at work. The small whirlpool snagged her lemon wedge and sucked it under. I imagined little seed men screaming 'men overboard!' and trying to abandoned their citrusy raft.

Mom frowned when she realised I hadn't touched my food yet.

"Is everything okay?"

"Hm?" I looked up, my head in my left hand. "What?"

"You haven't eaten yet." She said. "School or…"

I sighed. "I think Grover is in trouble."

I told her everything about my dream, even the part with the sister.

"I don't know what he meant by 'Warning them'." I concluded, stabbing my waffle with a fork.

Mom pierced her lips. I knew she didn't like to talk about our _other side_ of the family, we tried to live as normally as possible. She dictated that after I accidentally swung a javelin into the sofa and sliced it in half like a hot knife in softened butter.

But this was important. My best goat was in trouble, maybe even dead.

No… He didn't feel like he was dead. Maybe it was just a feeling in my gut, but I was so sure he was alive.

"Grover is a big goat, he can take care of himself. I'm sure he's fine, since we haven't heard any news from… camp."

She tensed at the word _camp_ , like it was some vile medication she had to take.

"What's so wrong about camp, mom?"

She shook her head. "Nothing's wrong with camp, dear."

"Don't lie to me, mom. I know something's wrong."

She shook her head. "You need to get to school. And afterwords, I can take you and Tyson to Rockerfeller Centre, where that skateboard shop you love so much is."

My heart raced. That was so tempting, we never had the time or the money to do stuff like that. With my private school tuition and mom's night classes, I was so sure something like this wouldn't happen.

It… wouldn't happen.

"We're suppose to pack for camp tonight, mom." I reminded. She winced at that.

"Percy… Chiron sent a letter last night…"

My heart sank. "What do you mean?"

"He… he doesn't believe you should come to camp this year. Something's come up, he doesn't believe you'd be safe."

There was a pause of silence.

"Why?"

She shrugged. "I don't know."

"I can't just stay here all summer, Drew'll flip if I did." I imagined the younger girl. Drew would storm straight out of camp and hunt me down personally, probably casting some clown makeup curse on me. Then she'd drag me to camp, giving me a lecture on why I should have been there the first place. I shivered at the image.

"It's not safe, Percy."

"But-"

"But nothing. You should be getting to school now." Mom stood up and dusted off her skirt.

Unfortunately, I couldn't argue with her. She is still my mom, at least one of them. I highly doubt Aphrodite would ride down from Olympus and ask for me to go to camp.

So I just got up, grabbed my book bag, and walked out of the house.

I set off on my old rickety skateboard down the sidewalk, weaving around people and deadset on getting to class on time.


	2. Breaking the Bad - Cocaine Addition

A little backstory to help you catch up on the past 9 months, since we kinda just jumped right into the pond of chaos.

As you might remember, I had chose to go back home at the end of summer, despite the scorpion incident (mom freaked when she saw the huge white scar on my palm that went from my index finger to the end of my wrist, just under my pinkie finger. I thought it was cool, a great conversation starter). A few days later, camp sent out a letter containing a small box. The letter didn't matter, it was sent my Dionysus (and addressed a Samantha and Pedro Jordan), but the box was a lot more important.

Inside was a clay bead, much like the ones Annabeth had on her necklace. Only this one was a bicolour shifting bead - pastel pink and sea green - with a dove holding a trident in it's claws paint on it in a matte black. Chiron's handwritten note was tagged at the bottom.

' _Each summer, I select an important event that happened and place it on a bead to represent the summer. This year, we received a camper who had the blood of two gods. One of which is one of the Big Three - Poseidon, and the other is the goddess of love - Aphrodite. He restored peace to Olympus when the Masterbolt was stolen. This year, we made a bead in his honour. ~Chiron._ '

I didn't know whether to be flattered over the fact the bead was about me, or frustrated because both Annabeth and Grover helped me in this quest.

I got a weaven cord made silver from Drew a couple of days later, as well as an congratulations on being the bead of the summer. I used that other than the black leather cord that came with the bead.

I also started the 7th grade at Meriweather College Prep. Sounds fancy, right?

Yeaaaaaaaaaaaah… Not really.

Their ideal work environment is beanbag sofas instead of rows of desks and plastic seats. Instead of grades, we got a thumbs up and a smile. The teachers wore rock concert shirts and denim jeans with chains hanging off of them.

And, worst of all, the staff were optimists.

Every.

Single.

One.

Of.

Them.

The children were not.

I should have loved Meriweather, Mom had spent so much to get me here.

Instead, I was still that one kid who stood up for the most unpopular student.

Last year, that was Grover.

This year?

His name is Tyson.

He's easily 7 feet tall. His grammar is surpar. He gets scared easily. And he was homeless.

Meriweather was too optimistic and decided to adopted a child to teach. That child was Tyson.

At first, everyone was terrified of him. He would break desks without much effort, crush metal by just sitting on it, and is very _very_ loud. So loud, he could probably overpower my charmspeak.

By Tyson was more of a big baby. Not to poke tease or anything, but he was literally a big baby. He sounded like a 7 year old got trapped in the body of some steroid builder wannabe.

And, just like with Grover, I was his only friend.

Okay, now you're all caught up.

And before you ask, No. Drew and I do not go to the same school. She lives in Brooklyn with her rich father who made millions on an online dating site. Also, no, her father doesn't know that Drew comes and visits 'middle class slums'. His words, not mine. He was rarely home - he traveled to Japan and Taiwan all the time, leaving Drew alone for weeks at a time. My mom… the mortal one, mind you, half adopted Drew. Drew hasn't met Tyson, since he's not as… appealing to the eyes of a typical love child.

So, onto my disastrous day.

My first class was English. We were given a book to read, Lord of the Flies, earlier that month. For our final exam, the staff stuck 100 or so students in the gated football/track/playground field with no adult supervision for an hour. Just to see what'd happen.

2 pebble fights, three wedgie battles between the 7th and 8th graders, full on tackle 'basket football', and 7, _seven_ , games of blood-drawing hide and seek.

The school bully, 8th grader Matt Sloan, lead most of these activities. The dude's ego reminded me of a mortal Ares. Lanky non-existent muscles, cropped yellow hair, orange-like skin, and stuck to expensive but sluggish clothes. He was the poster delinquent of a rich person family. His parents, the world famous Sloan Corp. CEOs, slapped him into this school after he ran his dad's porsche into a 'Please Slow Down For Children' sign.

Leaving people like me, who promised his mother to NOT use his powers in school, to deal with him.

He was making his way around the place, pulling people's underwear higher than he should, until he made the mistake of trying to do that to Tyson.

What ended up happening was sadistically pleasing and terrifying at the same time.

Tyson let out a yelp and swung around and backhanded Sloan. He went flying back 10 feet, then made a ditch in the wood chips.

The entirety of the kids stopped and stared, silence raining down on us.

Sloan sat up, angry. "You freak!"

"Take that back, Sloan." I snapped softly.

"Whatever Jackson. You'd have more friends if you weren't so close to that loser beanstalk."

I curled my fists and contemplated on giving him another chipped tooth.

"You'd have real friends if you fixed that face of yours." I grumbled, careful to make sure no one heard me. Sloan's friends helped him up, snickering and tossing other insults at Tyson.

He teared up and marched off towards the monkey cage, sitting down and crushing the bar so badly it bent everything around it.

"He didn't mean it," I walked back over and put my hand on his shoulder. I kept my eyes low, since I've never had the courage to look past his brown crooked teeth. I turned back to look at Sloan…

And I could swear his group of goons had doubled.

I was use to Sloan and his group, even if I wanted to tell him to 'stick it where the sun don't shine', but he was only with 2 or 3 other people. Today there was at least a dozen new goons, all of them with muscles and evil grins.

"Just wait, Jackson. When PE comes, I'mma bash your head in." Sloan announced.

"As if." I grumbled. Tyson sniffed.

"Am I a freak?"

"No," I reassured him. "Sloan is the freak."

Without meaning to, the charmspeak slipped out. Tyson nodded slowly. I promised him an extra peanut butter sandwich for lunch, as long as he doesn't Bobofit it.

When our English teacher came out in his Band Perry tee and overalls, he announced we had understood Lord of the Flies completely. We all passed the final, then was given a 10 minute lecture about why we shouldn't grow up to be violent people. Matt Sloan just nodded and shot me a chipped toothed grin. I snarled at him, shooting a glare.

My next class was Science, in which the teacher sat us down, gave us a bunch of chemicals, and told us to mix until we made something boom.

Tyson was my lab partner, which everyone had teased me about, until the test started and he tried to grab a vial and knocked everything into the trash can next to us. There was a mini mushroom cloud of some orange chemical the same shade as my CHB shirt. The teacher, Mrs. Tesla (like that was no big coincidence), handed us immediate A+'s, claiming she's never had someone ace a test in under a minute, then evacuated the classroom. Tyson had sheepishly apologised, but Mrs. Walking Pun just waved her off.

The morning started to fly by, then lunch was over and I was sitting in Social Studies. The teacher instructed us to open our notebooks and practice latitude and longitude lines.

The spiral notebook in front of me was torn to bits, but I opened it regardless.

Instantly I was greeted by grey eyes.

Annabeth was standing in front of the Lincoln Monument, smiling wildly. There was a man standing next to her, blue eyes sparkling behind round glasses and dirty blonde hair tousled from the wind. He wasn't very tall, 5 foot 7, and nothing screamed above average other than the Harvard Alumni sweatshirt with a couple of pins.

Frederick Chase, Annabeth's dad. I had gotten a large email during winter break from the daughter of Athena, completely in greek. She told me how much had changed since the last time she tried to bond with them.

Her picture was so full of life. It was like my lifeline, to remind me that last summer really wasn't just some dream. That I really hadn't been kidnapped. That Zeus _really_ got his bolt stolen, that Luke _really had_ stuffed _wax_ in his ears.

I went to close my book, but a dried fruit textured hand shot out in front of me, and Annabeth was gone.

"Who's this, Pretty Boy?"

I looked up and met the eyes of, you guessed it, Matt Sloan.

"It's none of your business." I muttered.

"What's that?" He raised a white eyebrow. "Didn't hear ya. Is this your _girlfriend_?"

My cheeks turned red. "No."

"That's what I thought."

"Give it back."

Matt held the picture over my head. "What's that? You want your girlfriend to be real? Amazing what photoshop-"

" _Shut your f**kin mouth._ "

Matt's mouth clamped shut immediately. His eyes widened in confusion, but unluckily the effect didn't affect the goons. One of them snatched the paper and started ripping it up into small bits to make spitwads.

They must have been new, because their name tags were the universal red and white stickers.

Either they had a sense of humour, or my dyslexia was acting up, because their names read 'Marrow Sucker', 'Skull Crusher', and 'Joe Bob'. None of those names could be human.

Sloan quickly recovered from the charmspeak. "These guys will be coming here next year. And They can pay tuition, unlike that friend of yours."

I bit my cheek, glaring up at him. I was not going to charmspeak, not until after school. _At least I didn't swear it on the Styx._

As if on cue, a little black down fluttered into the room from the open window. Her beady red eyes watched me from atop the SmartBoard, expectantly.

"You're such a loser, Jackson." Sloan scuffed, when he didn't get a reaction.

 _If you only knew what I am capable of_ , I mused to myself. _I bet you'd wet your pants._

"I'll put you out of your silent misery in next period, you'll see."

He stalked off, leaving me without an Annabeth. His shadow seemed to split in half, peeling away like some horror show scene. It started towards me, but then the bell rang. The shadow rippled away, leaving me… shaken.

Tyson and I made our way to gym, when I heard someone, a feminine voice, call out of me. "Percy!"

I paused in the middle of the hallway, turning around. No one looked up from their lockers. Any girl would be caught dead calling my name here, sister or not.

"Um…" I looked around, confused. "Hello?"

No one looked up at me, rushing past while trying to be late for class. Even if teachers don't give tardy slips.

My gut churned, and I got a bad feeling. Maybe I should ditch school? But Tyson…

Someone ran into me, causing me to turned back around and go to PE.

ȣ

For weeks, our PE teacher promised us a free-for-all dodgeball game. For weeks, Matt Sloan has been promising to kill me.

Coach Nunley was a frail man easily as old as the Oracle in the last room of the last floor of the Big House. Dare I even say he could be older. He sat all day in the bleachers, constantly in the Meriweather Prep Gym Uniform - tie dye shirt and bright sky blue knee long shorts. He really moved, always forgot his dentures, and his nose can be located in the bikini pictures in Sports Illustrated.

I got dressed in my pro-weed outfit… er, sorry, _gym uniform,_ and was about to leave the gym when a small voice whispered "Percy?"

Tyson stood at the entrance of the handicap shower stall, holding his uniform in his knuckles. "Could you…"

I nodded, silently recognising his anxiety.

I've been silently doing things a lot. I wonder if everyone assumed I was partially mute.

Tyson always got changed in hiding. He was covered in countless nicks and scars, more than most senior campers at CHB. I never had the courage to ask him, because when Sloan poked at Tyson for them, the school ended up having hundreds of dollars of damage to the locker room.

I stood at guard by the shower stall curtain while Ty got dressed, thinking about what on earth was going to happen in that gym.

ȣ

I reemerged from the locker underworld to the even worse gymnasium. I was not one to partake in gym 'exercises', mostly because they were too mundane for my liking and I prefered camp's parkour and self defense classes.

But when it came to dodgeball, it really takes the hate cake. One too many times I bit my tongue, literally, because I would be hit so hard that I would fear my charmspeak might ooze out like a zi-

No.

Bad simile.

Um…

That it might come out like cake frosting in a pipette?

Yeah yeah, much better.

Typically I would nudge my way out of games like this - you have no idea how easy it is to squeeze into the small gaps of the bleachers - but today every other classmate stuck to me like glue.

There were 40 kids in the class - 6 of them were the newbies, 3 of them were one of Matt's goons, 10 of them the goons' goons, one of them was the ugliest goon ever, 1 Tyson, 1 me, and 18 kids who'd rather side with the 'mute wimp' than the hunks on the other side.

You mortals confuse me.

Coach Nunley muttered something that wasn't complete English and flicked his wrist to the huge container of red rubber balls.

Sadly, I thought of a certain Maltese puppy.

"Hey Loser." Sloan roared from across the room. "You're going down."

"Smell funny." Tyson muttered. I looked up at the big guy.

"What?"

He pointed to the 6 visitors. "Smell funny."

I frowned and glanced over at them. They seemed strange, like they had grew in height a little in height. Each one of them were cracking their knuckles, like they were about to wrestle boars the Clarisse way.

"How so?"

Tyson whined softly, like a puppy, leaving me deflated. I almost wanted to charmspeak it out of him, but I told myself (and you guys) several times already - demigod powers are not going to be used in school.

Hence the reason why everyone thought I was mute-ish.

One of Matts goons spilled the dodgeballs in the center and the game was afoot.

Immediately, three members of my team were picked off by weakly thrown balls. Raj Mandali, the calculus whiz 6th grader, shouting something in another language and bolted for the door. A girl named Jasper Ralio somehow managed to squeeze her body between the mat on the wall and the floor, trying to not look like a target. Other people of my team were struggling to get away from balls.

I heard someone yelp and I turned, only to fly sideways. A huge lump of red sailed away from my, my vision blurred.

The other side of the room broke out in laughter as I staggered to get up.'

"Hey, you could have killed someone." I blurted out.

The bald one of the group, Joe Bob I believe, stepped forward. "I hope so, Perseus Jackson."

My blood ran cold.

No one knew my real name. It wasn't even registered in the school system.

But there was one side of the family that knew my real name.

What had Tyson said about them. That they _Smelled Funny_?

Monsters.

"Percy, duck!" Tyson's childish voice rang out. I sailed to the side, tucking into a roll and coming up on the other side sprinting.

The lockers.

I needed to get to Riptide because this cursed uniform doesn't have pockets.

 _You could have put Riptide behind your ear_ , the very familiar small voice said.

" _Shut up_." I said aloud, accidently causing some people to stop their screaming. A projectile sailed past me and exploded mid air, all the exits closing immediately.

I skid to a stop and turned back to the opposing side. The 6 visitors had all grown up to be 8 foot giants with sharp canines, wispy thinned hair, and webbed skin over their muscles and tattoos of hula woman in valentine hearts.

"Let us go." I muttered, glaring at the giant. Matt Sloan dropped his ball in shook, backing away in terror. His team was doing the same thing.

"Never, Son of the Sea. We Laistrygonians came here to win! Hero flesh for dinner!" The other 5 started cheering.

"I'm sorry, _did you just say you're name is 'Let's Try Agains'?_ "

Marrow Sucker paused. "Er, no… were we not clear?"

" _Not really._ " I said slowly, trying to think of a way out. What would Annabeth do?

"Well… um…" Skull Crusher tapped his chin.

"Canadians." Joe Bob corrected. "We're Canadians."

" _Ew, why did you leave for America? Don't you know American Demigods are like overcooked chicken breasts? I heard Mexicans taste better._ "

"But they're spicy," one complained, then scowled. "Wait a minute."

The red rubber ball in his hands turned to bronze. "You sly tongue, you shall be first meal."

He chucked the ball right at me before I could blink.

I sent a silent message out to Hades, telling him I might be visiting too soon, then the ball sailed right past me. I turned around and saw who was in the unfortunate misaim.

"Tyson, _jump_!" Everyone around me suddenly leapt as high as they could upwards. Everyone but Tyson

Tyson reached out and caught the fiery hot metal in one hand. I stood there, not registering what just happened.

Apparently the poor Canadian couldn't either. Tyson yelled something in another language.

"Φάτε μέταλλο, χιονάνθρωπο!"

My mind instantly recognised the greek - Eat metal, snowman.

He did a baseball pitch and the monster went up in a puff of cocaine.

My jaw dropped. "How did you-"

I noticed, out of the corner of my eye, a boy named Collin was in the line of fire of another bronze ball.

" _Collin, get out of the way_!"

My powers took hold of his body and Collin started wildly sprinting across the room, crying and screaming the entire way.

Joe Bob sniffed the air, confused. "How do you control people so well, son of sea?"

I stood straight, glaring at him. I picked up a bright red rubber ball.

"Because, b*tch, I'm Aphrodite's son."

His eyes widened and I pitched the ball as hard as I could towards his gut. He managed to dodge out of the way, but Marrow Sucker got knocked right in the head with the hard material and stumbled a little. His ball ignated in his hands. He too went up in cocaine puff.

Tyson picked up a bronze ball, well…. what's left of it, since this was the magical door shutting one, and slung it at another Canadian. Slowly, one by one, the Canadians went back to their snowy white piles.

And Joe Bob was left with only three balls.

"Percy need help," My fellow impossible friend muttered, and stood by my side. By this time, everyone had pooled behind me upon my command, scared senseless and wondering why little boy blue had suddenly become loud and demanding.

"Tyson…." I looked at his chest. His shirt had burned up partially, but other than that he looked fine. "I need to get to the locker room."

He nodded. "I can do that." Then he barrelled towards the giant.

I squeaked in alarm. "What, no, I meant-"

Tyson snagged a ball from the giant's waist line, chucking it at the locker room door.

Unfortunately, if you had eve been in a locker room, you know they smell bad. It doesn't matter if you're male or female, most perfume and colognes have a flammable chemical. Since this was the men's locker room, and at least everyone used Axe but me, that flammable chemical is Butane.

And the gas build up inside the room made it go boom. Clothes flew out like bulky confetti, littering unfortunate classmates.

Joe Bob back handed Tyson, and he went sailing into the outwall. The mortar crumbled on impact and bricks came tumbling down on him.

"Tyson!"

"Your friend is good as dead." Joe Bob slid himself between me and the opening in the wall. Behind him was a familiar pair of tattered black jeans.

My lucky day.

 _You're going to die._

"I know." I muttered. "Shut up and let me think."

 _You could run for it._

I blinked. "Thats a terrible-"

 _Well would you rather everyone else die?_

"...Good point… Wish me luck."

I broke out into a sprint. Joe Bob smiled wildly.

"My dinner approaches."

I was halfway there when a horn came out of his stomach like an alien.

No.

Not a horn.

A glowing dagger.

He went up in a puff of white smoke that caked itself on an invisible body.

A white spotted arm went up to their head and pulled something upwards.

I stood there, in the middle of white powder covered gymnasium floor, staring into the grey eyes of Annabeth Chase.


	3. Where on earth is the next chapter?

**An: Oh... Hello there.**

 **My dearest... followers...**

 **How's it going? How long has it been? heh... 2 weeks?**

 **Don't glare at me like that. I'm working on the next chapter... you know, with a 21,000+ word side project... But that's not what you're interested in.**

 **I'm a couple of pages into the next chapter, but I do need to make sure I'm along the right track, which means I need to reread SoM.**

 **And, ya know, school starts tomorrow... yeah, there is that little roadblock.**

 **So, please enjoy this very small update that I will take down when I post the next chapter... whenever that is.**


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